


Shopping Cart

by codependenceinflannel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Firefighter Dean, Grocery Shopping, Human Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3071726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codependenceinflannel/pseuds/codependenceinflannel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean meets a handsome stranger in the baking aisle. Well, meets him, runs him over with his shopping cart, same difference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shopping Cart

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little ficlet for my friend Jean, for her birthday! Love you, my dear!! ♥

“Dean, you need to get some kind of vegetable in that cart. You have three different kinds of starches and there's-” Sam was cut off with a snort and more cans of diced tomatoes being thrown into the shopping cart.  
“Sammy, we're putting out blazes, not hopping around a friggin' field of wildflowers. If you want rabbit food, you can buy some for yourself.”   
It was Dean's night to cook dinner at the firehouse, and he couldn't remember why he thought it was a good idea to ask his younger brother tag a long to the grocery store. He pushed ahead, jumping onto the back of the cart to quickly wheel his way towards the meat department. The younger Winchester rolled his eyes and took big strides to continue the conversation.  
“It wouldn't hurt to put some more color on the plate, Dean! It's important to maintain a healthy, balanced diet when you-”   
“Jesus, Sam! It's Benny's birthday this weekend, and I'm trying to be a good friend and make him a nice meal. He likes pasta night, alright?” He paused, picking up a package of beef before frowning and putting it back down. “Man can make a killer po'boy, but he's hopeless when it comes to Italian, and I told him I'd make the House smell like Little Italy tonight – so could you please stop being a pain in my ass, and go over to the Bakery and find me another fresh ciabatta loaf? I don't think one is gonna cut it for bruschetta if all the boys are staying in.” The last sentence was spoken more to himself as Dean studiously inspected the five pound family pack of ground beef, waiting until his brother strode off towards the other end of the store in a huff. The shorter man rolled his eyes at his brother and walked towards the produce section. He'd pick up some green peppers for the sauce, maybe it would appease the little health freak. 

Dean was distracted with the idea of ingredients for cannoli filling, warring with himself over the pie he had originally planned on baking for dessert, which is why he didn't see the tan figure crouched close to the ground until he knocked it over with his cart.   
“Shit! Hey man, I'm sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going, and you were kinda low to the ground there-” Dean rushed around to help up the other man, his instinctual training already having him scanning the dark haired man for any injury. He smiled apologetically after making sure the stranger was okay, only a quickly fading mask of annoyance marring his otherwise handsome features.   
“It's all right, I suppose I should have been more aware of my surroundings,” came the gravelly reply. “I'm just trying to figure out what I need to bake a cake for my niece, and it is a much more difficult task than I had originally imagined.” The blue-eyed man patted the pockets of his over-sized trench coat absentmindedly, muttering something about a forgotten shopping list under his breath.   
Dean smiled as he took in the shorter man's appearance. He was hot, sure, with the five o'clock shadow to match the husky voice, but with the confounded stare those killer baby blues were sending over to the boxes of cake mix in front of him, Dean figured the poor guy had never stepped in front of a oven in his life. The freckled man smirked a little, leaning his forearms onto the handle of his cart and nodding towards the selection. The kitchen was Dean's specialty. What a perfect opportunity to start a conversation. “Well, do you think she'd prefer chocolate, Mister....?”  
The dark haired man looked over at him again, surprised to find his assailant still standing there. He considered the taller man for a moment. He definitely wasn't hard on the eyes, leaning forward in a well-filled-out tee that was sporting the ladder numbers of the local fire company. Dean smiled at the Castiel, pulling him back into the conversation. After helpfully supplying his name, Castiel answered, “I was told in no uncertain terms that the icing should be purple, but other than that, I'm afraid I'm quite lost. What would you bake a spirited eight year old?”   
A charming grin slid onto Dean's face as he regaled "Cas, man," with some "killer easy recipe" he saw on his brother's laptop the other day.

 

Ten minutes later Sam found his brother smiling at some guy in a suit over food coloring in the baking aisle. Uninterested in listening to his brother flirt with some nameless guy, he just kept walking over towards the produce section, muttering about a side of spinach for that night's dinner. 

 

Sam found out the suit's name two weeks later, when he showed up for family game night at the firehouse, hand-in-hand with a little blonde girl wearing a purple hoodie, and his own older brother – wearing a brighter smile than Sam had seen in years.


End file.
